


A Dance Partner

by MildlyRebelliousMint



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: (but in the author's note at the end), Gen, I'm not saying over is an explanation okay? cass is, Mild Family Feels, Mild Language, Sexual Harassment, but more than I can justify, not a ton of focus on punch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 10:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17221982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MildlyRebelliousMint/pseuds/MildlyRebelliousMint
Summary: Cassandra attends a gala and helps Dick out of an uncomfortable situation. She doesn't punch anyone this time.





	A Dance Partner

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to part of bigger thing, but then in true mint fashion, I decided nah. Also, I kind of wanted to get one more thing posted before New Year, because my word count on Ao3 is kind of sad this year. I spent all my writing points in college.
> 
> Thanks to luckynumberblack and redwritinghood for their beta work.

It’s Cassandra’s first gala since she met Lex Luthor. At first glance, she’d seen only layers of lies. His talking had been twisted, like a fighter distracting from their true target.

She’d made her target clear when she’d punched him. Much more fair

Bruce says no more violence at galas, without permission from himself or Dick. _Spoken_ , he’d added when she’d grinned. He doesn’t like Lex Luthor either. He’d masked his amusement from Luthor with apologies.

The rule is a problem. Lex Luthor isn’t here, but she isn’t sure the woman talking to Dick is better. She’s fluttering eyelashes and unwelcome fingers on skin. Dick keeps smiling. _The_ _easy heir smile_ , Tim says. It pulls at his face wrong. It’s… strained. A practiced laugh and shoulders trained to relax. His foot still shifts back, itching for space. His legs want to run.

The woman wants… more touching. Rubbing. It smothers.

“Cass?” Tim says beside her. He’d been talking. Words. They’d slipped away. “Something up with Dick?”

Across the room, she sees him gently move the woman’s hands away. She leans closer.

_Yes_ , she decides. “Needs backup.”

Tim’s face shifts. His eyes scan the room, searching for danger. “The lady with Dick?”

Nodding, she hands her punch to Tim. She thinks it’s punch. It tastes better than the punch she’d found in Tim’s fridge - with the four fingered baby on it. “I’ll… handle it.”

She steps across the floor, weaving past an anxious woman rubbing her pearls and two men barely aware of the people surrounding them. There are judging little breaths and chin tilts. Cassandra is a spectacle.

Black Bat could throw this woman aside. Simple, effective. She could pull him away. Also effective. No violence.

She reaches Dick and he’s still inching away, smile in place. Maybe pulling isn’t right.

She steps between them. Compromise. She gives the woman the same space she’d given Dick and she stumbles back.

“Whoa, Cass,” Dick says, behind her, “What’s going on?”

The woman is still off guard. Creeped out. Other people have noticed. Eyes catching even as their bodies shift away.

She needs… a reason to take Dick. Her eyes move to Tim, watching from the corner of his eye. “Punch.”

“I’m sorry?” Her smile whispers unpleasant things about Cassandra.

No, that won’t work. “Dance,” she tries, “I need my brother… to dance.”

Her laugh is jagged. Not amused. “Surely, it can wait.”

“I’m sorry,” Dick says, putting a hand on Cassandra’s shoulder, “She’s taking a dance lessons and I promised I’d help her tonight. You’ll have to excuse us.”

“Oh. No trouble,” the woman says. She doesn’t mean it.

He guides her by the arm onto the dance floor, smiling at the people still watching. He takes her other hand and she follows his movements into a simple dance pattern. Back, side, front, side. “What’s the situation?”

“Over,” she explains.

“Over?” he repeats.

She nods.

Dick lets out a little laugh. His smile is confused, but it sits right. He holds his weight loose, no longer consciously controlling his shoulders and posture. She’s safe to him. It’s nice.

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy, at least,” he says. He does mean it.

**Author's Note:**

> RIP Tim. In the second and third drafts, Cass updates him on the situation being chill, but then I realized it was I who felt the need to keep him in the loop.
> 
> Being a pragmatist, Luthor didn't press charges.
> 
> I have seen no canonical evidence that Tim has Hawaiian Punch in his fridge. I just feel it in my bones.
> 
> Also, I know everyone was worried, but the lady touching her pearls had gloves on. Phew.


End file.
